


you raise me up

by caramelle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Meet-Cute, valkyrie is a paparazza (and not a v good one either lmao)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:11:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: "You wanna be some prince in shining armour? What I really need right now is a few good shots of this asshole, okay? You can either give me a boost, or fuck the hell off. What’s it gonna be?”Or, the one where Valkyrie climbs onto some random guy's shoulders to get a better shot of a celebrity. She definitely doesn't expect said random guy to turn out to be an obscenely famous rockstar.





	you raise me up

**Author's Note:**

> months ago i swore to myself i was never going to write thorkyrie fic and here i am months later writing thorkyrie fic
> 
> in this modern au, brunnhilde valkyrie goes by her last name bcos that's just how she rolls ok ty
> 
>  
> 
> ([idea for the fic was borrowed](https://twitter.com/mellamymake/status/981729744549953536) from A Crazy Kind of Love by Mary Ann Marlowe! full disclosure i haven’t actually read the book, lmao)

 

 

 

It’s not that Valkyrie is _bad_ at her job.

 

It’s really more that she fucking _hates_ it. The hours are shit, she’s basically on-the-go twenty-four/seven, the payoffs come way too infrequently to feel like adequate compensation for her efforts, and, oh, everyone else in the industry is a fucking _creep._

 

Unfortunately, as much as Valkyrie hates her job, she hates not eating a lot more.

 

So when her (sort-of) boss tells her to go nab a few shots of Loki Laufeyson when he arrives in town to shoot his new movie, she swallows the urge to tell him to go fuck himself, tosses her gear into a bag, throws back a shot of tequila and heads out the door.

 

She parks a block or two away from the hotel where Loki Laufeyson’s supposedly booked in at for the week and hoofs it the rest of the way, ducking in and out of random stores in a deliberate move to throw off paparazzi who obtain their leads solely from tracking fellow paps’ movements.

 

By the time she reaches the hotel, night is well on its way to falling, and there are already five or six other paps gathered by the entrance. (Disappointing, but not surprising.) They shuffle aimlessly from one foot to the other or hunch down on the kerb, eyes glued to their phones. She heads towards the two figures propped against the front wall of the hotel, lit joints dangling from their hands.

 

“Hey, Korg,” she says, glancing to his companion. “Hey, Miek.”

 

“Hey, Val,” Korg greets, lighting up as she approaches. “Didn’t know if you were gonna show for this one. Bit mainstream for you, isn’t it?”

 

She nimbly nabs the joint from his fingers, bringing it to her lips for a deep draw. “Not my choice,” she says once she’s exhaled. “Grandmaster’s on my ass again.”

 

Miek grunts, and offers her his own joint.

 

“You can say that again,” she remarks, handing the joint back to Korg. “Thanks, Miek, but I’m good. Just needed a quick hit.”

 

The shorter man grunts again, and takes another hit.

 

“Enjoy the peace while it lasts,” Korg says, tugging at the thick camera strap around his neck.

 

Her gaze snaps to him. “What does that mean?”

 

He shows her his phone screen. “TMZ just screwed us all. We’re gonna be swamped in five minutes flat.”

 

“Fuck,” she says, staring at the headline splashed all over his screen in bright red letters. “Shit, fuck, _damn.”_

 

One would probably expect Valkyrie to have a love-hate relationship with gossip rags, seeing as they’re the ones paying her cold hard cash to bring snapshots of famous people to them. Truth is, it’s pretty much all hate on her part. _Especially_ in times like these.

 

“Okay, well,” she says, shaking her head. “Let’s just try to spread out. Three angles are better than one, right?”

 

Miek grunts again, brows lifting in agreement.

  
  


It takes her about ten minutes to regret her decision.

 

She’s half crushed in the throng of paparazzi and crazed fans, people yelling and screaming on every side of her and pressing up _way too close_ in their attempts to get closer to the hotel entrance, phones and cameras ready to go in their outstretched hands.

 

She’s just about ready to start outright shoving people when a black SUV rounds the corner, prompting the crowd to completely _lose it._

 

With her camera raised and ready, she starts to push forward, but then she feels a hand grazing over her ass in a not-so-subtle movement. Whirling around, she grabs at the wrist attached to said hand. “I don’t think so,” she snaps irritably at its balding owner.

 

“Chill, lady,” the guy says, still leering unapologetically at her. “It’s pretty packed here. Can’t help it if my hands end up in places.”

 

She gives a sharp twist to his wrist, gripping hard and bending it back so his elbow sticks out at an unnatural angle. “Oh, yeah?” she says. “Can’t help it if my _fist_ ends up three feet up your ass.”

 

He grins, seemingly too enthralled with her touch to notice that she’s half a move away from dislocating his arm. “Hey, baby, I’m open to _all_ sorts of kinks.”

 

She wrinkles her nose and shoves him back, wiping her palm roughly against her jeans. “Jesus Christ, dude. Fuck _off.”_

 

He starts to step towards her, but before he can say anything, he’s stopped by a big arm across his chest.

 

“The lady asked you to leave,” a deep voice intones.

 

Valkyrie glances up at her uninvited help. His face is half-hidden under a black hoodie, but the small smile on his mouth is clearly visible, speaking to a deceptive casualness that’s betrayed by the grim set of his jaw.

 

The balding creep takes one look at the stranger’s towering, broad frame — shit, what _is_ this guy? Six two? Six three? -- and, with a derisive snort, turns and slinks away, muttering something about _‘men’s rights.’_

 

The tall man turns to her, wearing a pleased smile, but she’s already turning her back on him.

 

“Oh, fuck,” she exclaims when the crowd starts screaming and the pulse of camera flashes speeds up, turning into a verifiable barrage. That can only mean one thing: Loki Laufeyson’s stepped out of the car, and thanks to her little altercation with what looked like a Lex Luthor idoliser, she’s officially lost her spot in the middle of the throng. No, now she’s all the way at the back of the surge, with no way to get a decent shot of her target.

 

“Shit, shit, _shit,”_ she mutters, pushing up onto her tiptoes as she searches over the heads of the screaming horde for a glimpse of the actor currently standing on the sidewalk. It looks like he’s actually taking a minute to pose for photos and sign stuff for fans, so she still might have a chance yet.

 

“Everything all right?”

 

She whirls around, focusing in on the guy still standing there, looking at her all _expectantly._ All he did was raise a fucking arm. What does he expect, her to drop to her knees in swooning gratitude?

 

“Just fucking peachy, man,” she snaps, waving her camera heatedly. “You mind? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” Her annoyance is only heightened by the fact that she has to crane her neck almost all the way back just to make eye contact with him. Seriously, who the _fuck_ needs to be _that_ tall?! Combined with his broad frame, he’s practically blocking out the streetlights.

 

He blinks at her less than cordial response, his eyes widening under the hood. In fact, he looks genuinely taken aback enough that she almost regrets lashing out at him. (General life experience and chosen vocation combined, it’s become all too easy for her to forget that not _everybody_ she meets has shitty intentions and motives right off the bat.)

 

“Hey, all right,” he says, taking a step back (and _actually_ blocking out a streetlight in the process). “I was just—”

 

Her hand whips out just as he steps back, fingers latching around his wrist as an idea dawns on her.

 

“Give me a boost,” she blurts out.

 

He cocks his head, but doesn’t pull out of her grasp. “What?”

 

She gestures impatiently towards where she estimates Loki Laufeyson to be standing, judging from where the crowd is aiming the bulk of its camera flashes and high-pitched squeals. “You wanna be some prince in shining armour?” she says, inching closer and pushing up on her toes so he can hear her over the ruckus. “What I _really_ need right now is a few good shots of this asshole, okay?” Her grip shifts on his wrist. “You can either give me a boost, or fuck the hell off. What’s it gonna be?”

 

He blinks, and glances towards the source of the crowd’s hysteria. “You need a shot of _that_ asshole?”

 

She nods. “That asshole. So what, you in or you out?”

 

She’s on top of him in three seconds flat, half breathless from the efficiency with which he’d picked her up and sat her on his shoulders, her legs locked securely into place under his arms (which are, side note, just as solid and muscly as they look).

 

“Little to the left!” she yells, one eye glued to the viewfinder of her camera.

 

“Good?” he calls back once he’s adjusted accordingly.

 

“Little more!” she tells him. “Just— _yes!_ Hold on!”

 

She feels absolutely no qualms about leaning forward for a last round of shots, trusting the weight of his palms braced above her kneecaps to hold her upright. The back of his head presses hard into her sternum, and for half a millisecond, she worries that she’s putting too much pressure on his neck — but he merely leans forward with her, his hands large enough to wrap practically halfway around each of her thighs as he balances her weight.

 

“ _Yes!”_ she exclaims once Loki Laufeyson’s disappeared into the hotel. She pats the top of his hood-covered head with her free hand. “All done!”

 

To her surprise, he doesn’t let her down right away. Instead, he takes a few more steps to the left, ducking into the mouth of the alley by the hotel entrance so they’re not overwhelmed by the crowd, half of whom are dispersing and half of whom remain screaming by the hotel entrance. Once they’re off the sidewalk, he drops her into a piggy-back position before bending his knees low to set her on her feet.

 

The rustling movement knocks his hood down, so by the time he turns back around to face her, his structured face and close-cropped head of blond hair are both on full display. (She also notices, with a small jolt, that his eyes are startlingly blue.)

 

“Got everything you need?” he says, mouth curved in an indulgent smile, and she tries to focus on his words instead of how much deeper his voice is when he doesn’t have to raise it to be heard over the mob outside the alley.

 

“Just about,” she says, summoning a cocky smirk as she waves her camera between them. “Congratulations. You get to keep your prince in shining armour card for the night.” She raises a warning finger. “Don’t even think about asking for a cut of this, though.”

 

He grins, the expression making him look ridiculously boyish. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Although...” He trails off, eyes travelling down her frame with an air of consideration that’s distinctly different from the kind she usually gets from men.

 

“Although _what,”_ she prods, brows knitting together in a frown.

 

His gaze flicks back to hers. “You’re kind of small for a pap, aren’t you?”

 

She bristles, taking one step towards him. “ _Excuse_ me?”

 

His eyes spring wide, both hands flying up in a desperately placating gesture. “I mean, not that you’re— you’re perfectly _fine!_ Well, not _fine_ — I’m sure you’re more than capable of—” He flails slightly. Actually _flails._ “I just mean— doesn’t this, uh, particular line of work come with certain, ah, _vertical_ challenges?”

 

She leans back, finding herself torn between further annoyance and a surprising undercurrent of amusement. “I guess,” she admits grudgingly. “Sometimes I get my friend Korg to give me a boost. Most of the time I just fight my way to the front and stay there.” She narrows her eyes at him. “Which was my plan for tonight, until I got derailed by a card-carrying member of the princes in shining armour club.”

 

He blinks, mouth falling open. “Hey, I was just trying to _help_ —”

 

She cuts him off with a snort, shoulders shaking with chuckles. “ _Kidding.”_

 

He looks stunned for a beat, and then his face breaks into a smile. “Cheeky,” he comments with a shake of his head, like he’s speaking to some invisible spectator.

 

“Well, thanks for the boost, Your Highness,” she says, allowing herself a small grin. “I gotta get these edited and sent in within the hour, so—” She aims a pert salute his way, and starts to head out of the alley.

 

“Hey, uh”—she pauses, turning back to see him reaching out as if to grab her and then pulling his hand back—“I was thinking, uh, if you ever needed another boost—”

 

She cocks a sceptical brow. “You applying to be my gofer now?”

 

He squints. “Not _exactly.”_

 

“Good,” she says, digging in her camera bag for her phone. “No offense, but you’re way too pretty to be one.”

 

He blinks, head tilting. “You think I’m pretty?”

 

She scoffs good-naturedly. “Let’s not pretend otherwise, Your Highness,” she says, unlocking her phone display and handing it over to him. “Here, punch your number in.”

 

She generally doesn’t think too much about interactions like these, preferring to take things one step at a time. If she feels like hanging out with someone, she’ll hang out with them. If she wants to fuck them, she’ll tell them. She’s still not sure exactly which one it is with this tall blond god, but she sees no harm in trading digits and figuring it out along the way.

 

She watches as he gives himself a missed call so that her number’s logged into his phone. “Cool,” he says, handing her phone back with a smile (that’s admittedly charming as fuck).

 

She glances at the contact name he’s saved himself under. “Cute,” she comments, flashing the display at him that reads _‘Prince (In Shining Armour)’._

 

“Call me,” he says, shooting her a cheesy wink as she turns to go.

 

She rolls her eyes, but lifts a hand to wave at him over her shoulder as she strides out of the alley, camera safely at her side.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Garbage. Garbage, garbage, _garbage!”_

 

She rolls her eyes — thank god for phone calls in which no one can see your face — and inhales deeply before responding.

 

“You asked for photos of Loki Laufeyson,” she says, keeping her tone tight but neutral. “I gave you photos of Loki Laufeyson.”

 

“Thirty other outlets have photos of Laufeyson by now,” her boss whines. “We need something extra if we’re going to compete with any of them.”

 

“There _is_ no extra,” she points out. “Anyway, I did what you asked. Pay me my money.”

 

The man she only knows as Grandmaster sighs. “I gotta say, Val, both of us would’ve been a lot better off if you’d managed to bring me photos of Thor Odinson.”

 

“Who,” she says, bored.

 

“ _Thor Odinson,”_ Grandmaster repeats, in that half incredulous way he always does whenever she shows no recognition of yet another halfway famous person’s name or face. “Rock god Thor Odinson? Five-time Grammy nominee Thor Odinson? How the hell do you _not_ know Thor Odinson?”

 

“It’s not my _job_ to know celebrities,” she snaps, and then pauses. “Well. It _is,_ but not _that_ —”

 

“I’m sending you pictures of Thor Odinson,” he says. “See if you can nab some shots of him instead. Rumour is he’s gonna be in town visiting Laufeyson sometime this week, so the _real_ money shot is if you can get both of them together.”

 

She sighs, weighing her options. Getting sent out on a specific mission is already torturous enough, but being asked to hang around a hotel for a whole _week_ without times or dates, without _any_ concrete information at all? That’s a trip to the Underworld in itself.

 

“I want three times my rate if I get the shot,” she says at last.

 

“Two,” comes the instant response.

 

“Two and a half,” she shoots back. “Final offer.”

 

A heavy sigh sounds, but she knows it’s far more likely theatrics than actual frustration.

 

“Oh, all right,” her boss says. “Two and a half. _Only_ if you get me the money shot.”

 

“Oh, I will,” she says, and cuts the call. Tapping on the mail icon, she opens up the email sitting right at the top of her inbox labelled _‘THOR ODINSON PIX!! SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT!!!!!’_

 

The second the first picture loads, she freezes.

 

Thor Odinson looks like the guy whose shoulders she sat on last night.

 

Thor Odinson looks like the guy whom she told to _'give me a boost, or fuck the hell off.'_

 

The guy who helped her chase off a handsy creep, let her sit on his shoulders to get her shots of another celebrity, _and then_ asked for her number? That guy… looks _a lot_ like Thor Odinson.

 

Fuck.

 

That guy _is_ Thor Odinson.

 

It takes her a few long beats to recover, but once she’s spent a full ten minutes poring over all the photos in the email (there were… a lot of photos. All featuring a lot more _hair_ than she'd expected), she exits the mail app and pulls up a blank text message.

 

 

**wtf dude u cut ur hair?????**

 

The response comes in far quicker than she expects.

 

 

**Hello. Also, what?**

 

**oh sorry lemme lead w this instead**

 

**u’re Thor Odinson**

 

**Is that all of it or am I waiting for more?**

 

**maybe im not striking the right tone**

 

**once more**

 

**u’re..,,. thOR ODINSON??!?!?!?**

  


**Ah, okay. Tone noted. And yes, I am.**

 

**At the risk of sounding insufferably arrogant, I have to ask**

 

**Did you… did you not realise?**

 

**listen it’s not my Job to know famous ppl**

 

**… Isn’t it, though??**

 

**nOT LIKE— ugh nvm**

 

**No wait keep going. I want to hear this**

 

**Actually, no. Explain it to me in person instead**

 

**Are you free for dinner tomorrow?**

 

**can my camera come**

 

**Fine.**

 

**But I’m not giving either of you a boost this time**

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> OK SO i already have a second chapter about 85% completed BUT i'm not sure if anyone would even be interested in this first one to begin w so if you've got a sec, pls do drop me a kudos or comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> i'm also [on tumblr](http://ticogirls.tumblr.com)!


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